Chapter 13
The autumn rain fell in a steady drizzle, lacking the wild abandon of summer’s downpours yet possessing a unique, viscous density. Leaves, drenched by the autumn rain, dripped water as they fell.
The fine rain soaked Ah Heng’s clothes, falling onto his sallow face. Truth be told, Ah Heng disliked the sensation of rain on his skin—cold and damp, as if it sought to burrow from his flesh into his very bones. Umbrellas were impractical in the forest, and besides, Ah Heng had none to use.
The whimpering of beasts grew clearer. Stumbling along, Ah Heng followed the sound. The forest floor was slippery, moss on the rocks soaked by rain, making him feel like he might take a tumble at any moment.
These past few days, he’d been busy rebuilding the ruined temple. He hadn’t felt it much while working nonstop, but after just a moment’s rest, he could hear his bones creaking. It sounded eerie, hardly like a living person.
Speaking of living beings, during his duel with Tian Huan that day, Ah Heng had distinctly heard his own heartbeat. Unfortunately, it was only a single thump, and then he could no longer feel it. Ah Heng suspected he might be a living corpse.
“Hmm,” Ah Heng murmured, eyeing a towering tree with puzzlement. How had he never noticed such a colossal specimen in the forest before? Its trunk was so thick it would take dozens of men to encircle it, its sturdy branches stretching straight upward. The sounds of beasts drew closer. Ah Heng carefully stepped over the sprawling roots, using his begging stick to part the thick wild grasses tangled among them.
After parting a cluster of wild dendrobium orchids, the begging stick revealed a cave beneath. A faint glow emanated from within, and the beast’s whimpering echoed from the depths.
Ah Heng stood before the entrance, an insistent thought urging him inside—the beast within would become his apprentice. After much hesitation, he finally crouched low and crawled in. He’d never dreamed of having an apprentice; he simply believed the creature inside must be the leopard he’d encountered twice before.
In the rain-drenched night, the beast’s low whimpers sounded like sobs. It had chosen its location well. Its lair lay beneath a colossal tree, hidden among the tangled roots where it was already difficult to spot. Vegetation grew over the entrance, making it even harder to find. Had Ah Heng not followed the sound persistently, he might have missed the opening entirely.
After crawling through the entrance, Ah Heng discovered the cave was unexpectedly vast. Night pearls illuminated the interior, bathing the entire space in light as bright as day. The cave was warm and dry, filled with abundant spiritual energy. Were it not for the thick, pungent smell of blood permeating the air, Ah Heng would have thought this place a veritable paradise.
The beast lay sprawled on a patch of animal hide covering the cave floor, writhing in agony. The roots surrounding it looked as if they had been blown apart, their white interiors exposed.
Even as Ah Heng approached, it remained oblivious. It thrashed violently, seemingly trying to rise, but after a long struggle, it collapsed heavily once more.
The wailing sounds, like sobs, came from the leopard. Once a massive demon beast, its form had now shrunk to that of a normal leopard. Perhaps it had shrunk to slip into the cave more easily, or maybe reducing its size conserved spiritual energy.
The cave lay beneath a giant tree, with several patches of level ground among the twisted roots. Ah Heng carefully stepped over the roots, inching closer to the leopard. His pace was slow, his body stiff, yet he managed to advance a considerable distance.
“Ssssh—” A faint sound of fabric tearing echoed as Ah Heng’s begging staff brushed against something soft. He stared, realizing the staff had snagged on a tangle of yellowish-white clothing.
A headless corpse! The body wore a yellowish-white robe, with an empty sword scabbard strapped to its back. Wasn’t this the Celestial Immortal Tianhuan, whose head had been swallowed whole by a demon beast that day? How had it ended up here?
Ah Heng poked the corpse, thinking this was probably what the leopard had dragged in for food.
The sound alerted the leopard. By now, Ah Heng was close enough. It bared its teeth, its body cowering as it shuffled backward. Ah Heng noticed the leopard’s movements were painfully slow. Focusing closer, he saw all four of its legs were broken. A normal leopard would have succumbed to such injuries long ago, yet this one merely moved with a noticeable sluggishness.
Its limbs were twisted, every movement a searing agony. Flesh had been torn from the broken bones, blackened blood congealing in the wounds. It looked pitiful… especially with bloodshot eyes, tears rolling in its sockets—whether from pain or despair, no one could tell.
Ah Heng used his begging staff to push Tian Huan’s corpse aside, then walked slowly toward the leopard. The beast made an attacking motion, but with its limbs unable to bear weight, it stood unsteadily, a low growl rising from its throat. Tears glistened in the leopard’s eyes, reflecting pride and fury. Even with all four limbs destroyed, this demon beast refused to be humiliated by humans.
Ah Heng looked battered from his journey. He waved his hand. “I’m not here to pick a fight. I have something to tell you.” He stepped back and sat on a protruding tree root, confident the leopard would understand his words.
“Thank you for helping me that day. Without your aid, that Taoist would have taken my life. Thank you.” Ah Heng gestured toward the headless corpse. “Whatever your motives, you saved me.”
The leopard glared at Ah Heng, his bloodshot eyes brimming with wariness and suspicion. He didn’t believe a single word this human was saying! If someone broke all your limbs, then showed up at your home saying, “Thanks a bunch,” he scoffed. No one would believe that.
If not for the pain dulling his senses, he never would have let this man approach his den. Now, no matter how he looked at him, this man seemed utterly untrustworthy.
Ah Heng hesitated, a touch embarrassed. “I just feel like we share some kind of karmic bond. Don’t get the wrong idea—I mean a master-disciple bond. Oh, I’m the master. You’re the disciple.”
“Roar—” The leopard roared furiously at Ah Heng. Even someone like Ah Heng, who couldn’t understand animal language, could sense the leopard’s rage. Yet Ah Heng only poured fuel on the fire, scratching his messy hair with a touch of embarrassment.
“I’ve never been anyone’s master before, but there’s a first time for everything.” Ah Heng’s smile looked a bit foolish under the night pearl’s glow. “Strange as it may seem, ever since I woke up, my mind’s been filled with all sorts of bizarre thoughts.”
Bizarre was an understatement—some thoughts bordered on defying the heavens. Not only could he see people’s births, aging, sickness, and deaths, but sometimes a faint glimmer of enlightenment would flicker in his mind.
He couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was, but Ah Heng felt this couldn’t be wrong. This must be what they call following one’s true heart. Ah Heng touched his chest—where not even a heartbeat resided.
“I just came to tell you: we share a master-disciple karmic bond. Of course, whether you follow me is entirely your choice.” Ah Heng scratched his head, seeming resigned. “Though I’m penniless now, just a beggar, if you become my disciple, I’ll never abandon you.”
“Get lost!!!” The leopard finally couldn’t stand Ah Heng’s nagging anymore and roared loudly. The furious roar shook Ah Heng’s brain so hard it felt like it was trembling—if he had a brain, that is.
“What kind of demonic spell did you use on me?! Why won’t my wounds heal?!”
Ah Heng gasped in shock. “You can talk?!” But then he remembered—a voice in his mind had been insisting he take this leopard as a disciple. Earlier, he’d even pondered what he could possibly teach a leopard. He pictured the creature lying before him, both man and beast begging together.
“I never meant to break your legs…” Before he could finish, Ah Heng was swept out of the cave by a powerful surge of spiritual energy. The leopard couldn’t harm him, but it certainly didn’t want to see his withered, sallow face.
The leopard’s voice echoed through the woods: “When I recover, I’ll grind your bones to dust! Just you wait!”
After rolling several times on the ground, Ah Heng scrambled up, covered in dirt and mud. He grumbled with a hint of grievance, “What a terrible temper.”
He’d actually considered taking this leopard as a disciple—he must have been mad. Ah Heng shook his hair, flinging those bizarre thoughts from his mind. He was probably just desperate to be someone’s master.
“I’m just a beggar. The world doesn’t revolve around me.” Ah Heng calmly reassured himself before continuing his leisurely walk home.
His mindset was surprisingly resilient; he didn’t get angry after being rejected by the leopard. While walking through the woods, he casually caught a rain-soaked pheasant. He’d stick to looking after Er Gou and Lao Wen Tou.
After Ah Heng left, the leopard’s entire body went limp. The pain was unbearable, forcing tears beyond his control. He’d walked this path not just missing limbs, but with his chest stabbed countless times. The powerful spiritual energy and formidable physique of a demon cultivator had sustained him all along—even broken arms could regrow. But why wasn’t that possible this time?
The leopard gnawed off his own forepaw in agony, yet the newly grown limb snapped just like his previous arm, the pain driving him to the brink of collapse. How could such a formidable demonic cultivator be reduced to weeping in his cave? He had clearly devoured the divine soul of a Nascent Soul cultivator and the golden core of a Golden Core cultivator that day, yet none of that power could heal the excruciating pain of his shattered limbs.
This agony clung to his bones like a parasite, never easing for a single minute since the moment they snapped. Frantic and tormented, the leopard nearly exhausted his spiritual energy attempting to mend his shattered limbs, yet it proved utterly futile. The pain threatened to shatter his sanity; he longed to smash his head against the wood and end it all.
Yet worse than the physical agony was the mental torment. He had been hiding for far too long. Lian Wushang pursued relentlessly. He had finally found a place to rest, only to be struck by this calamity.
He had no regrets about killing cultivators. Those who preached righteousness and morality were filthy inside. With a thousand lives on his hands, a few more meant nothing.
“Xiao Yu…” Baozi collapsed, exhausted. For days now, every time he closed his eyes, he heard Xiao Yu calling him in his dreams. Perhaps he would soon join her. It was for the best. He no longer wished to hide and flee. Lian Wushang was likely approaching, and escape seemed impossible.
“Xiaoyu, wait for me a little longer. I’ll join you soon. We’ll walk the path to the underworld together.” A tear hung from Baozi’s eye as he slipped into a deep sleep, only the sound of wind and rain coming from outside.
Author’s Notes:
Wen Bao: I thought having my limbs shattered by Wen Heng was the worst pain imaginable. Little did I know, it was only the beginning!
Wen Heng: Disciple, I didn’t catch what you just said.
Wen Bao: Master, I said you are wise and mighty!
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